


652

by orphan_account



Series: The Library [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, ask prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9864137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ask Prompt: "Write about your theory of how Keith got kicked out."Keith can see in the user data that Shiro has run through this particular hour-long simulation 652 times. Keith remembers before the Kerberos mission launched. Every single day for almost a year before they left, Shiro was in here, running this simulation, the take off, they pass by Jupiter where they used the massive planet’s gravity to launch them into the furthest reaches of the solar system, the same with Saturn on the way back, the return orbit around Earth. All together, he had almost six hours of exercises, all of them ramped up to the highest degree of difficulty. One mistake and he would fail it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a prompt given by user lifeiscarrots

He’s been keeping it on a memory stick for the past several months. When the Kerberos crew disappeared, or rather when it was announced they had disappeared, the only reaction had been stunned silence. No one was angry. No one was sad. The officers were calm, methodic in the way they had told everyone the news that three people were lost at the edge of the solar system due to a pilot error. Instead of going to class, Keith had bought the stick from the commissary, gone to the flight simulator, and saved a copy of the Kerberos exercises.

There was no flight class that day. When Keith went back the next morning, any traces of Kerberos was gone. The instructors had scrubbed clean any trace of the mission overnight. Over the next several weeks all the facts, everything that Keith knew, was being steadily replaced by whatever little bits and white lies those higher up the totem pole decided to try and spoon feed him. The same false crap they gave the news outlets and the public.

Keith lets out a deep breath when the simulator doors close behind him. He steps to the chair, pulls open a panel in the floor just in front of him. There he can push the stick in and load up the correct simulation.

He knew better than to believe any of that. Keith turns the simulator on, runs through the checks before it gives him the list of exercises. He scrolls all the way down, never seeing anything about Kerberos until he gets to the extra storage. He chooses the landing program. Shiro had, according to public sources, misjudged their altitude over the icy plains of Kerberos and brought the ship in too fast, critically damaging it.

Keith can see in the user data that Shiro has run through this particular hour-long simulation 652 times. Keith remembers before the Kerberos mission launched. Every single day for almost a year before they left, Shiro was in here, running this simulation, the take off, they pass by Jupiter where they used the massive planet’s gravity to launch them into the furthest reaches of the solar system, the same with Saturn on the way back, the return orbit around Earth. All together, he had almost six hours of exercises, all of them ramped up to the highest degree of difficulty. One mistake and he would fail it.

Keith remembers when Shiro first started them, he had failed probably the first twenty or so times. Just while he was getting used to the hair trigger controls, until he had seen almost all the random variations that could arise. Shiro had hardly talked to him then. He was always working. He put himself through the wringer. He would go in well rested. He would go in after two caffeine pills. He would go in after thirty hours without sleep. Shiro was meticulous. He was a perfectionist. Anything he could think of to make it harder for himself, he tried it. He did it over and over until he could do it right with any kind of handicap he could come up with. Nothing was going to stop him.

Towards the end, when the launch was looming near and both of them had really started knowing that Shiro was going to leave. When both of them had this growing sense of truly being separated for months on end. When it was real and they were trying to squeeze in every minute they could, Shiro had invited Keith to come with him into the simulator, pulled a blindfold out of his back pocket and said, if he crashed during landing, he owed Keith dinner at the nicest restaurant in town. Keith had already been dreaming of steak when Shiro had taken his seat in the pilot’s chair, feeling around for the controls.

Keith remembers it now, as he leads the craft into the scant pull of Kerberos’ gravity, how Shiro’s hands twitched on the controls. He was stiff in his chair, nervous of failing when he’d put on so much bravado, but there was this beautiful, giddy smile on his face. Keith had sat, mesmerized, through the entire thing as Shiro eased the craft through a perfect, gentle arc. Shiro had landed the craft on the icy surface of Kerberos with the softest jolt. A little rough, but none the worse for wear.

Keith had bought Shiro a steak instead. This was the ultimate proof that Shiro was the best pilot on Earth. Proof that he had nothing to worry about.

But that wasn’t true. The Kerberos mission was gone. The crew was gone. Shiro was gone. Keith was only now, as he racks up flight time every night, running through this same landing sequence over and over, desperately picking through every little thing that could have gone wrong, coming to terms with the fact that he’d never see him again.

He might be able to accept the fact Shiro would never come home.

But Keith would never, ever believe that it was because of a pilot error.

Keith is just pulling back on the thrust and pulling the craft into a landing position when the screen go black. The doors open behind him and the whole cabin fills with the harsh yellow light from outside. He can tell it’s Iverson standing behind him just from the shape of his shadow.

“We told you what would happen if we found you breaking curfew again, didn’t we?” Iverson growls, and Keith hears the steps of several more pairs of boots behind him.

Keith sinks into his chair and leaves the memory stick where it is. He won’t be needing it anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at quiddity25 on tumblr and @Quiddid on twitter. I'm always accepting requests.


End file.
